Let's All Go to Heaven
by Ten Bones
Summary: The war to wake up Celty's head is nearly here. As Izaya puts the finishing touches on his plans, a pair of woman appear who aren't all they seem. One has no past that can be found, and the other looks like she may just be his key into Valhalla. Too curious of these new prospects, he makes sure they get caught in the web he's weaving. (Perm-Hiatus for rewrite)
1. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara or some of the concepts that will be showing up in this story.

Warnings: There will be sex, some scenes more descriptive than others. There will also be some dubious content, sexual mockery and other fun mature stuff that I think appropriate for the characters and situations. Oh and cursing, lots of cursing.

I hope you, dear readers, will enjoy this.

-Chapter 1: First Impressions-

Downtown Ikebukuro was not all they had been lead to believe. It wasn't the harsh, violent picture their editor had burned into their minds before ever stepping foot there, the man once having gone to the district on vacation and having had one of the worst experiences of his life– the way he told it at least. It was loud, busy, and it was a vivid tapestry of life. Men walked up and down the sidewalk in suits while the younger generation sauntered along in baggy pants and jackets, some with pretty but eccentrically decorated ganguro girls who were being cast judgmental glares by their more conservatively dressed elders. There was life here, rich and vibrant, and that was exactly what Yrsa and Mashi specialized in. This was the perfect setting for their latest set of articles for the Pop-Go internet magazine.

The sun was just starting to set beyond the tall offices surrounding them, the windows burning blinding orange to warn the citizens of the oncoming nightlife that was likely as colorful as the crowds mingling around in the day. It was their first night in the city and it would be the perfect chance to sample the entertainment and restaurants that Ikebukuro had to offer. The only question was where to start.

As darkness descended the two columnists walked down an increasingly crowded path. There were brightly lit karaoke bars with teenage boys still in uniform calling them to come join for a song before their girlfriends dragged them inside the establishments, host clubs guarded by handsome men promising good times with their mouths and much better times with their eyes, arcades beeping and whirring loudly with excited calls that echoed out into the streets. The pair even passed a love hotel that was so cute and brightly decorated that Yrsa would have stumbled in for investigation if she didn't know better; two years ago she wouldn't have known the hotel from a host club and even now she was curious about them. But the raging nightlife would have to be explored _after _they quelled their growling stomachs.

The first place they came to looked promising, a nice little ramen shop with what looked like a man and his daughter manning the counter. When the 'father' started sucking the young girl's neck however, they were completely put off the place and walked on.

More than a block passed the infamous ramen shop sat an interesting little shop on the corner. "Russia Sushi" read the old-fashioned wooden above the door. The title alone was intriguing enough to get them inside and seated at the sparsely populated counter, just a blonde man in a bartender suit at the very end of the bar and a well-dressed woman four seats down that kept checking the door and her watch as if waiting for someone. Mashi and Yrsa decided the other end would be good enough, away from the impatient woman.

A booming voice sounded from one of the booths off to the side of the restaurant.

"Welcome! Welcome to Russia Sushi! You hungry yes?" They looked up to see a monstrously tall black man with a thick accent and what may have been the world's friendliest smile. His grin was so infectious the women couldn't help but return it.

"Yes please," Mashi replied for them, much more social than her companion. "We're new in town, what do you recommend?" She asked as he handed over a couple menus.

"Always good to see new people. Try salmon roll is very good today," he told them jovially. "Sea urchin very fresh but might be strong for pretty girls."

"I'll try the salmon rolls please," Yrsa finally chimed in while Mashi regarded her menu critically. She was the only Japanese-born woman she knew that was fervently against the consumption of raw fish.

"The…" Mashi was still scanning. "…crunchy surimi rolls for me please."

"Is very good too," he nodded sagely with that same bright, contagious smile. "Will be out soon but nice tea until then."

True to his word, the two of them were soon sipping piping hot mugs of green tea as they watched the chef behind the counter delicately preparing their dishes. Mashi took out her tablet and pulled back the cover, rapidly typing notes up the second the screen lit up. Yrsa was less innovative, a steno pad and favorite pink pen being her methods of compiling data for their articles.

"Good service…friendly…" Mashi mumbled to herself as she worked and Yrsa couldn't help but agree.

_While a little hole in the wall, "Russia Sushi" has a comfortable and friendly atmosphere that could relax even the tensest of white-collar workers. Sizable, with a large bar area and several booths offering privacy for the more reserved. Few employees but those positioned in service jobs are personable and friendly._

_On a note: Look up owner and manager. See if authentically Russian; if so see how affects styling of food or presentation._

She left the pad open and set it on the counter while she took another sip of her tea. A quick peek over Mashi's shoulder showed a riveting game of Tetris but she expected her notes looked much the same as Yrsa's noting the friendly service and welcoming air of the place. Leaning back into her own space she reached blindly for her pad and felt only empty space beyond it. Familiar words hit her ears.

"'Could relax even the tensest of white-collar workers' my what a stunning review!"

With more horror than embarrassment, Yrsa turned to find an attractive young man holding her steno pad, rusty red eyes scanning over her scribbled words with great interest. His eyes darted to hers and he smiled devilishly behind her work.

"Can I have that back?" Yrsa asked flatly, the heat already rushing up her face at someone reading her work without a computer screen to hide her identity. Anonymity and moderate press had been part of the reason she loved this job so much, not a lot of face time with people that would be judging her work outside the editing room.

The grin seemed to grow exponentially across his face to the point she thought the skin might crack and flick away to reveal something more sinister than a man. "Maybe if you say 'please' I will," he flirted, waving her notepad in front of her.

"Hey, fuckface, give her her notes back," Mashi growled closing her tablet. After this invasion of privacy Yrsa was strongly reconsidering her stance against getting a similar device.

He laughed and dangled the pad more. "That isn't nice at all. I thought reporters were supposed to be friendly and personable."

How the hell did he know that? Not even the staff at the hotel that Pop-Go had none-too-discreetly paid for knew who they were. Maybe she was being paranoid, he had just found a set of rough notes she had taken after all. Maybe it was fair to assume he had just made the logical conclusion, but that smile of his made her believe that wasn't the case. He looked like he knew something, she just wasn't sure what yet.

"_Please_," Yrsa stressed the word through a tight jaw, "can I have my notes back?"

He tapped the corner of the notepad against his chin in mock thought, a faraway look passing through his eyes for a moment. He leaned the notepad back towards her, daring her to take it. Yrsa reached out half-expecting him to yank it back like an elementary school student, he seemed the type. Instead she gripped the edge of the pad and lifted it easily from his grasp.

"Oh!" She hated how surprised she sounded when he had simply given her work back without a fight, "Thank you."

The Cheshire grin effortlessly morphed into a smile that could charm sirens. "You're welcome Yrsa-chan. Or should I say Ruri-chan?"

The blood in her veins ran cold. Not only did he somehow know her penname, he knew her real name– nobody outside the company even knew that they were the same person. She didn't like to think of herself as easily disturbed, or at least she liked to think she hid shock well, but Yrsa couldn't stop her jaw from hanging open as she gaped at this man who just smiled that soul-stealing smile back at her. He casually touched her chin and closed her mouth for her.

Mashi pushed her stool back from the bar. "Listen asshole I don't know how you-"

Her voice was interrupted by a much louder one coming from the direction of the bathrooms. "Hey, Simon, you're out of paper tow- _Izaya_!"

"Guess it's time to go," the man hopped out of his chair with practiced grace and gave the two a little wave. "I'd love to stay and visit with you ladies, but it looks like I've got to run."

The man– Izaya, if the screaming blond bartender was to be believed –rushed out the doors followed hotly by the man that had taken up the other end of the bar. Behind the tall blonde, the black man was chasing him and yelling, "No fight! It make you hungry!"

"Here you are ladies. Enjoy!" The chef said loudly to direct their attention away from the spectacle they'd just witnessed. He took had an accent, though slighter than their server.

"Thank you," the women said in unison and took their orders from the chef, their orders looking like ordinary sushi, a slight relief for Yrsa as she had been having trouble imagining what Russian-inspired sushi would have looked like.

The place remained relatively empty while the pair ate; the only other customers they noticed coming in was a group of four who greeted the staff like they were regulars before taking a private booth off to the side. It was peaceful, especially after the incident with the notepad and the bartender.

"So what're you girls in town for? Come to see the sights?" The chef asked as the Russian man took their dishes away. Both of them had been making friendly small talk with them during their meal and the extra company was nice. They had learned that the big black man's name was Simon, but hadn't managed to wheedle the chef's name from him.

"Yeah," Yrsa answered casually, saving Mashi from having to lie. It was easier for the blonde to do when the words rolled off her tongue like silver. "We're here for a few weeks. We got vacation at the same time and decided to do something together, and what's better than touring Ikebukuro?"

The chef grinned, clearly approving of their trip. "Well I hope you two enjoy the place." He suddenly turned somber. "Just be careful, we got a lot of color gangs right now. They've been back on the rise lately for some reason."

"Color gangs?" Yrsa inquired turning both to Mashi and the chef for answers.

"Think the thugs back in American, Yrsa. In this case they'll all wear the same color, like red hats or whatever. It'll seem mundane but it helps to recognize the members," Mashi explained to her from the rim of her mug. She took a sip before continuing, "Just be careful if you go out alone okay?"

She resisted a roll of her eyes, a natural reflex, even if she knew her friend was just looking out for her; at 25 she knew her response should have been a little more mature than that. Fighting the urge still in her eyes, she gave a nod and promised to be on the lookout if Mashi wasn't there.

Mashi pushed back from the bar and stretched after finishing her tea. She was smiling like a contented cat as she slapped the money down on the counter. "Come on, we should get some rest." She turned to Simon and waved goodnight to him and then the chef saying, "Thanks for the meal."

Mashi headed to the door, Yrsa following behind like a little duckling. They made their way back to their hotel for the night. There was a full day ahead of them tomorrow, and it would be starting bright and early.

* * *

[Kanra has entered the chat]

Taro Tanaka: Hey Kanra.

Setton: Evening.

Kanra: Hey guys! I have big news tonight!

Taro Tanaka: What's up?

Kanra: You guys ever read Pop-Go?

Taro Tanaka: Oh I've seen that, they have good recipes in there sometimes.

Setton: I love that magazine!

Kanra: Me too! But get this, Ruri-chan and Kiiro-chan are here in Ikebukuro!

Setton: What?! How do you know?!

Kanra: Someone's excited. \( ^o^ )/ I saw them today when I was out but to make sure I checked Pop-Go's site and it says they're out on assignment right now.

Setton: And you're positive it's them? Are they meeting people? How long are they here for?

Taro Tanaka: I never knew you were such a big fan of their's Setton.

Kanra: Not sure but I hope we can meet them Setton! Oh phone's ringing got to go.

[Kanra has left the chat]

Izaya leaned back in his chair and swiveled around a handful of times, the night sky above and soft glow of streetlights far below passing by in a blur when he whipped by his window. He stopped the chair and grabbed the phone from its cradle before dialing a number he seldom used when stirring the pot. The press was usually so dull, so irritatingly slow to go through, but if he wanted the desired effect he would need their little newspapers pushing out his rumors, letting the public know just the few details he would feed them, like scraps to hungry dogs.

The phone rang and rang, his wandering eyes eventually landing on his chessboard where a pair of little pawns hugged the edge of the board. He swiped a go piece over towards them and advanced his unsuspecting pawns up the board just a little, just where he wanted them when someone finally picked up on the other line


	2. Ikebukuro's Toughest

Welcome back everyone. A thanks first to the reader who added this to their 'followed' list, secondly thank you to the two who left anonymous reviews, which I will be addressing in a moment to hopefully answer their concerns, and lastly thank you to all those reading, I hope you'll bear with me for the duration of this story. I'm still rather new to this fandom, my only experience with it being the English dub of the anime and the seven manga that are currently out so I'm a little anxious about this. Still, I'll try my best to make a compelling and good story. Now for the reviews…

JustMyOpinion: First off, thank you very much for the compliment! He is a bit of a hard nut to crack, but I'm approaching him from the view of there being new people in his town so what better way to entertain himself than poke and prod them to see what they'll do; they'll either bore or entertain him. As for his board, they are fairly known entities so there's chaos and fun to be had at their expense. At least that's what I'm leaning towards given what I've seen in her personality. I hope that helps and thank you for the review.

ZZ2C: Not so mundane, but that's for later. As for the rest I'll please point you to above, in my little spiel about what I'm going for as his personality, and I'm glad you saw that I wasn't about to lay out several paragraphs of pure exposition, I find it more fun to try and leave hints as to what's going to happen. Thank you too for the compliment and I hope the idea isn't too veiled, I don't want to be esoteric and drive people away. Thank you for the review.

-Chapter 2: Ikebukuro's Toughest-

Mashi's phone was blasting the harsh digital rendition of a rock song shortly before Yrsa's own rang out with an electronic dance tune. Something flew across the room with a loud crash and the rock music abruptly stopped. Still drunk with sleep, Yrsa reached out for her own and found it on the nightstand; she pressed her thumb into the button on the side and was met with blessed silence. She turned back to her pillow when both phone started up again. The ringing was returned with a pair of groans.

Mashi was the first to rise, stomping across the floor to the bathroom and ripping her phone open. "It's seven in the morning this better be good," she snarled then went mysteriously silent.

Yrsa's phone went quiet and remained that way. The blonde looked over at her partner in crime from the comfort of her pillow, figuring it was the office trying to reach them, and now that Mashi was on the line they needn't bother with her. She could hear the static grunts of whoever was on the other line, probably their editor since they didn't forward their notes from last night, but couldn't make out anything they were saying.

"Fuck…Are you sure? How did they find out?" Mashi spoke looking wide awake now. "What inside source? Are you kidding me right now Takahashi?!" Yep, their editor, but what was he saying?

"Yeah…Yeah I'll tell her… Try to keep this under wraps yeah? Sure, talk to you later." Mashi closed her phone and turned grimly towards her lazy roommate.

When Mashi didn't seem willing to speak, Yrsa broke the silence. "What did Takahashi want?"

"Someone tipped off the local paper last night," Mashi growled and strode over to Yrsa's bed, dropping herself onto the foot of it and crossing her legs in front of herself. "All of Ikebukuro knows Ruri-chan and Kiiro-chan are in town by now."

"_What?_" Yrsa returned in shock. Her head was now miraculously clear of the cobwebs of sleep and she sat up in a hurry. The wheels were slow to turn but a thought hit her after a minute. "How would they- You don't think that guy from last night…"

"You're damn right I do," Mashi growled and clenched her fist. "If I see that little cunt again I'm going to kill him."

Yrsa pushed a hand through her tangled hair and groaned. "God…_damn it_!" She cursed angrily. "This was supposed to be just some nice little research project but _no _some asshole has to ruin it by alerting the media. Are we even that popular here?"

She hoped not, but ever since the magazine had raised in popularity Ruri-chan and Kiiro-chan's articles had become the trendy things to read about travel. It was hard to tell when exactly they had become commonplace names among the upcoming generation but the PR department had eaten up the sudden boom and attributed their success to the two writers, or more accurately the cartoonish characters that Yrsa and Mashi wrote for. So, for the last year the head of PR had done everything she could to keep the characters well-loved and recognized. It had been an irritation bordering on exhaustion and the cause of many frayed nerves that the pair were hoping to avoid when entering Ikebukuro without their masks on.

"Takahashi seems to think so." With a heavy sigh Mashi laid back on the end of the bed and started hard at the ceiling as it willing it to implode. "Apparently Pop-Go's gotten close to thirty calls already. People are asking for details on where we're staying and our schedules."

"Well," Yrsa began, unsure of how to make light of the situation, "they don't know our faces or real names do they?"

"No, that's the one good part. We're going to have to be careful though," Mashi warned looking up at her friend. "It doesn't help that I look sort of like Ruri-chan and you look kind of like Kiiro-chan."

Yrsa tugged on a piece of her pale gold hair and grinned. "Kind of," she echoed, "minus Kiiro-chan's dye job and, shall we say, eccentric style."

Mashi cracked a grin back, her own hair dark like pitch and lacking the ever-changing color of her avatar's bangs.

"We might as well start our day now, see what places serve good breakfast, maybe check out the shops a little later…" She organized aloud.

"Sure," Yrsa nodded sliding out of bed, "we'll just have to be on our toes or…maybe come back to the hotel early and lay low until this blows over some."

"Sounds good to me," Mashi agreed and hopped off the bed wandering over to her suitcase and digging out jeans and a t-shirt.

A little more conservative, Yrsa grabbed a dress from her bag and hid herself into the bathroom until she was decent, hoping the light getup would be enough for the August warmth. Summers in Japan were fairly mild, downright lovely compared to the baking Hell that she and Mashi had endured for nearly a decade in the Southwestern United States.

Mashi was waiting patiently on the edge of her bed when Yrsa came out, the dark haired woman somehow looking fashionable in her old jeans and a short braid of black hair hanging over her shoulder. She stood and nodded towards the door indicating that she was, and by extension Yrsa should be, ready. Tripping her way towards the door as she pulled her shoes on, Yrsa and Mashi headed out to meet the Saturday masses.

They got no further than outside the hotel when trouble hit. There was a group of girls in their late teens, all with obtrusive hairstyles and bright metallic makeup, standing not far from the lobby entrance, each holding a hardcopy of what looked like Pop-Go's July issue and talking rapidly to one another. It seemed like a coincidence, but Mashi didn't like those and dragged Yrsa quickly away by the arm. Yrsa on the other hand believed in omens and luck, and this seemed like a sign of something worse to come, little did she know it would come two hours later after a long breakfast with a friendly, chatty staff.

"We're being followed," Mashi confided in a low voice as they passed through the shadow of a tall office building. She kept her stare straight ahead on the sidewalk as they made their way towards Sunshine 60. Yrsa started to turn.

"Don't look you idiot!" Mashi scolded.

"_Who _is following us Mashi-chan? Not fans right?" Yrsa responded quietly, the urge to turn and face their predator nearly overwhelming her as they passed beyond the darkness the towering building cast over them.

"I don't know, just one person I think," said Mashi, never slowing in her pace.

Yrsa was already rooting around in her bag for a mirror. "Can I just check?"

Mashi pondered a moment, her gaze still firmly ahead. "Go for it, just don't look suspicious."

Yrsa pulled the small compact mirror from her bag and started to open it when thin arms covered by a black coat wrapped securely around her body, the person's chin digging painfully into her scalp as they leaned on her. The mirror slipped from her hand and clattered half open to the ground. A passerby stepped on the compact with a sickening crunch and she prayed that the years of bad luck didn't belong to her, but considering the luck she was having already– and Mashi too –it might have not mattered much.

"So good to see you again Ruri-chan, Kiiro-chan," the voice above said as Yrsa's face heated and she struggled for freedom from the surprisingly firm grip. It sounded just a little familiar. Before she could place the man's voice Mashi had whipped around and pointed an accusing finger.

"You! You're the fuckstick that reported us!" Mashi raged, her temper flaring just beyond the tight control it was kept under.

"Reported you? Why I can't imagine what you're talking about, Kiiro-chan." The smirk was practically dripping from his smug voice.

"Don't bullshit me I know you told the press who we are!" Mashi hissed trying to keep from making too big of a scene. It was too late though, the crowds had noticed the commotion and were giving them a wide berth, but at least they seemed to be ignoring them.

"Get off of me you creep," Yrsa demanded using both arms to pry one of his away. He was too close, his hands acting too familiar.

His left arm gave but his right merely slipped down to her belly and wrapped around her waist snugly. "Goddamn it…" She growled

"Now that's no way to introduce yourselves. Here I'll go first to show you how to do it right: I'm Izaya Orihara, so nice to meet you. Now you try."

"Mashi Toriyama, and I'm going to put my fist down your throat, _both of them,_ if you don't let her go," she threatened menacingly.

"How sweet, protecting your friend here because she can't do it herself," Izaya goaded. "Are you always this feisty or just when she's picked off so easily?"

Yrsa finally did the sensible thing and aimed up at his gut with her elbow. To her grave disappointment he launched himself back before she could fully connect, his arms slithering off her like water rolling off a stone.

"Not _so_ pitiful I guess," he amended with a chortle. "That's surprising coming from you Ruri-chan. Here I thought you were the sweet, boring type."

"My name is Yrsa you asshole!" She raged at him, the foreign slur of her heritage slipping into her voice.

"So I'm to call you Yrsa-chan instead?" He offered with the same toying grin they'd seen last night.

Yrsa twitched a little, more at his pleasant attitude than familiarity with her name. What was his game?

"If Mashi rips out your lungs will you still be able to talk?" She asked pleasantly, wondering at his behavior.

"I think for the sake of science we should find o- Yrsa duck!" Mashi screamed and pulled her friend down to the ground around the same time a streetlight hurdled itself towards all three of them.

The post struck the wall with a deafening crash, concrete chips flinging away from the impact. Looking up first since she was keeping Yrsa safe on the ground, Mashi found the pole lodged firmly in the wall and sticking out at a perfect ninety degree angle. Unfortunately instead of impalement, Izaya was crouched on the light's post and frowning at someone. She followed his gaze to the hot bartender that had been in Russia Sushi the night before. He looked like he could kill something –she knew the feeling all of ten seconds ago.

"How many times I gotta tell you to stay out of Ikebukuro, Izaya?" The rabid bartender demanded.

"Ruining the streets again are we, Shizu-chan?" Izaya teased but no smile could be found on his face this time. Good. The bastard doesn't deserve to be happy, Mashi thought icily.

"And how many times I gotta tell you not to call me that?" He snapped. The wild scream of straining metal hit her ears and Mashi's attention went right back to the man. "_My name is Shizuo Heiwajima!_"

_Strong._ That's all Mashi thought in delight as the scene folded out before her. The good-looking blonde man had ripped up a vending machine from the nearby street corner and flung the entire thing at Izaya. To her disappointment, again, Izaya dodged with frustrating ease, as if he was used to this sort of activity. Given the amount of animosity between the two she thought he might just be.

"Now Shizu-chan you really should be careful, you could have hit Mashi-chan and Yrsa-chan there," Izaya said in mock plea. The knife came out so fast it was just a flash of gleaming silver.

"Mashi…" Yrsa groaned, her face still pressed to the ground. "Mashi I can't breathe."

Mashi apologized and released her grip on Yrsa's head. The blonde sat up and took a gulp of air, there was blood dribbling steadily down her face from her nose. She must have thrown her down harder than she thought, but at least Yrsa wasn't one to complain about a little blood.

"I think…we might need to get out of here," Yrsa remarked after witnessing the violent destruction between the two men.

"Maybe. Hold on a sec," Mashi mumbled just loud enough for her friend to hear. She searched the ground for several seconds until her eyes landed on her prize: an unopened can of soda that had spilled from the fallen machine. "Hey, fuckface in the eskimo coat!"

Mashi hurled the can at Izaya, and the son of a bitch dodged. Instead the can smashed into Shizuo's face and erupted with a jet of angrily bubbling cola. Loud, hysterical laughter filled the street and it was coming from Izaya. Shit. Well, she might be able to take Shizuo, his eyes now trained on Mashi.

"What the hell are you doing throwing that shit at me!" He accused.

"I was aiming at that dickbag you're sucking against," Mashi shot back already taking up another can and heaving it at Izaya; the can exploded against the wall behind him. Her temper flared up. "Stop moving around so much you bastard!"

A streetlight was ripped from the ground, a large portion of the cement clinging to its base as Shizuo swung it around. "He's mine! Stay out of!"

"Well don't I feel special?" Izaya laughed on. "Two people fighting to get a piece of me, literally. How quaint!" A can exploded at his feet suddenly, brown fizz spraying against the hem of his pants and dusting his shoes with sticky foam as Yrsa's arm joined the fray.

"I told you to stay out of it!" Shizuo hollered incensed, swinging the pole again. Izaya jumped over the pole and backed away from the fight with a surprising show of gymnastic prowess.

"He's fair fucking game!" Mashi snarled back and kept tight focus on the pole as it arced in her direction, Shizuo's swing too wide when he'd been aiming at Izaya. She wouldn't be able to move in time.

As if struck by madness, Mashi brought her fist around, punching the head of the pole. Her fist connected and instead of every bone in her arm shattering, the glass dome and bulb inside it exploded, the head of the lamp denting. The force was enough to cut off the rest of Shizuo's momentum, but it could have been that he's frozen in place at the show of sheer strength from a woman even stringier than himself.

There was a long moment where time seemed to stand still. Blood spurted from Mashi's hand, glass shards embedded deep in the flesh and nudging their way towards bone. She gripped her wrist tightly to staunch some of the blood flow and glared embarrassedly up at her assailant who now held his weapon looking completely dumbstruck and even a little awed. He should be, she thought with a sardonic little chortle as her hand throbbed, pained but thankfully not broken. The lamp fell noisily to the ground between her and Shizuo, and time returned again, harkened by the sharp, manic laughter of Izaya.

"Who knew there was another freak just like Shizu-chan!" He continued, his voice full of chilling mirth. "What are the chances?! And both in Ike-"

Too distracted by his monologue, another can of soda was launched at Izaya, this one striking a hard blow to his chest effectively silencing him. Yrsa had finally crawled up from the rubble looking livid, the drying blood smeared across her face making her look half-crazed.

"She isn't a freak!" Yrsa screamed in her friend's defense as she leapt over the post and charged the lanky man.

The blonde sprinted at him with surprising speed. She managed to cover the hundred or so feet between them, nearly got within striking distance of Izaya, and then tripped over a chunk of torn concrete that had been broken up in the battle. Her face collided once more with the ground with a sickening wet crunch and a spurt of fresh blood. That damn laughter was back, loud as a hive of bees from her spot at his feet.

"My, but you two _are _entertaining, a calm monster and a repressed domestic!" Izaya said through his sadistic delight. "I'd love to stay, really, but I just have to go. Later!" With a cheeky wave to Mashi and Shizuo, Izaya fled. His laughter burned in Yrsa's ears after it had faded from the air. It was then Shizuo snapped back to his task.

"Izaya!" He shouted far too late.

"He's gone you idiot," Mashi spat hurrying to check on her floored friend, crouching next to her and nudging her with a knee. "You ok Yrsa?"

The woman sat up with a hand to her nose, blood still rushing out and soaking through her fingers. She looked miserably to Mashi for help but saw the far greater damage to her hand and turned away. "Fantastic, you? You should probably get that checked at- Uh-oh…"

In the time it had taken to assess one another, Shizuo had unhappily stalked over to the pair and towered over them as they sat on the ruined ground. He looked uncomfortable when he glanced at Mashi, the faintest of colors reaching his cheeks when he was unable to keep his gaze focused on her for more than half a second.

"I work near here, you guys can patch yourselves up there," he offered, maybe in way of apology, or maybe because he had taken a sudden liking to Mashi and her comparable power.

Mashi glared at him for a brief moment, her warm amber eyes softening some as she saw his small blush. She'd always liked them blonde after all, and this one was no longer trying to fight them. She nodded and stood up, her hand still trickling blood and turning purple from the pressure she had on her wrist.

* * *

"So what's the deal with that fucktard, Izaya?" Mashi asked with decided animosity as Shizuo's employer, a man with a shocking amount of dreads named Tom Tanaka, carefully pulled glass from her hand with a pair of tweezers and deposited the shards on a nearby napkin. He'd also been kind enough to supply Yrsa with enough tissues to stop the gushing of her twice bloodied and bruised nose.

Glass splintered loudly and all eyes turned to Shizuo, a glass in hand that now had cracks dancing along the sides of it; luckily the milk inside didn't start dribbling out. He had to set the glass down, and in a growl he proclaimed, "He's a damn nuisance is what he is. A flea!"

"Best not to mention him around Shizuo," Tom advised with an exasperated smile. No doubt he was used to things breaking around his bouncer. "As you can probably tell they don't really get along too well."

Yrsa laughed gently, the sound distorted from all the paper shoved up her nose. "Yeah we noticed." She pulled a wad out carefully and smiled when no blood flowed down her face; the other wad followed after the first. "Thanks by the way."

"Yeah," Mashi nodded her agreement, "thanks. I'd probably have passed out from blood loss if you hadn't brought us here. And then Yrsa would have had to drag me to a hospital and it would have just taken forever with her girly little arms." She gave an appreciative grin to Shizuo; it was a wonder he'd ever survived being near a pretty woman before, the way his face reddened at her sincere smile.

Tom glanced back at the flushed man. "There that's the last of it," he declared in way of distraction, setting his tweezers down next to the shards he'd removed. Mashi grabbed the roll of bandages from the counter and muttered another thanks, already going to work on wrapping her injury.

There was a pressing silence as Mashi covered her hand. It was almost tense, at the very least uneasy. She'd felt this before but didn't want to acknowledge it without the proper prompting. "_What_?" She asked in a low growl that was more bark than bite, displeased with the constant stare of Tom.

"Well…Shizuo mentioned that you were pretty strong," Tom tried at first but was met with a hard, very dry stare. "Okay, okay, he said you were really strong, something about smashing a streetlight?"

"So?" Mashi coolly remarked.

"It's just unusual is all," he said diplomatically as if trying to keep the peace in the room.

"Don't badger her about it, Tom," Shizuo defended as he lit up a cigarette and took a long drag.

Mashi looked hungrily at the small stick between Shizuo's fingers. "What brand?" He slid the box out of his vest pocket and flashed the brand.

Mashi was quiet until the cigarette was half burned away, her eyes never leaving the smoldering stick. "Ah fuck it. Can I bum one off you?" She finally inquired sheepishly.

Shizuo tossed her the pack and she slipped the thin vice from its package, setting it between her lips as she pat her pockets down with her uninjured hand. His face red, Shizuo leaned forward and struck his lighter under the end of her cigarette, lighting it with a delicateness it was hard to believe he had.

"Thanks," Mashi smiled up at him from her bar stool, genuine friendliness behind the look.

"So what brings you guys to 'bukuro?" Shizuo asked sounding a little more casual than he had when he'd previously spoken to Mashi. His cherry cheeks had even faded down to a soft peach for her.

Mashi took a drag from her cigarette to stop from answering, leaving the lie to Yrsa. She chocked on the smoke when her friend gave the truth, or at least a version of it.

"We're writing a magazine article about Ikebukuro," Yrsa told them honestly. "Tourist stuff mostly. Kind of like vacation with a book report at the end."

It wasn't _technically_ a lie, Mashi knew that, it just wasn't the complete truth. They were already known in the area, only by name but that was still dangerous to them doing their jobs without a hassle. Still, neither Tom nor Shizuo looked like they would know or care much about Pop-Go. Mashi weighed her options as she finished her cigarette.

"We work for Pop-Go, the internet magazine," she confided not wanting to lie– at least to the blonde –even if she could get away with it, which she couldn't at the best of times.

"Never heard of it," Shizuo commented smashing his butt out in a well-used ashtray.

"I think my girlfriend reads that," Tom supplied in thought, "it's recipes and travel guides and fashion and junk like that right?"

"Hey don't bag on those travel guides," Mashi teased, happy that neither of them had an interest in them unlike that fucker Izaya, "we write them."

"Oh I didn't mean… That kind of thing just doesn't interest me," Tom backtracked.

Mashi laughed, "It's fine, just teasing you. Anyways, if you guys hear anything about a 'Ruri-chan' or 'Kiiro-chan' keep it hush-hush would you? We're getting enough trouble with that _flea_…" Mashi gave a little smirk at Shizuo for supplying her with the fitting insult. "…apparently dogging our steps."

A vein in Shizuo's temple throbbed and a murderous smile slowly crept over his face at mention of the man. There was little doubt in Mashi's mind that he was picturing the painful ways for the obnoxious man to die; his ideas were probably involving lampposts or vending machines.

Tom wasn't nearly as bothered by the thought of Izaya, saying, "No problem. It'd be way too much trouble getting stirred up in one of his games." He glanced back at Shizuo to see if he was still in his dreamlike trance of violence. "Be careful if you guys run into him again. He's an information broker and he's very good at what he does. Half the weird crap that go down around here are usually his doing but no one can prove it."

"Stop talkin' about him!" Shizuo demanded angrily, his dreamlike state not nearly as deep as they'd thought.

"Maybe we should get going," Yrsa said sensing the impending rage coming on in the other blonde. "Thank you again for your help." She hopped up and gave a respectful bow to the men, both of which looked taken aback at her action.

"Too deep, Yrsa," Mashi reprimanded gently.

"Oh sorry, American, if you guys couldn't tell," Yrsa used in way of excuse after her blunder. Apparently four years in Japan hadn't nurtured enough cultural knowledge. Maybe after five she'd get the hang of things and could stop using that as an excuse for stupidity.

Shizuo shrugged, indifferent. "Whatever. See you guys around," he said, but looked right at Mashi when he did.

* * *

There were have it, chapter 2, and I'm very nervous about the story's reception now that it's getting going some. At any rate I hope everyone enjoyed, if not feel free to scream at me via review. If that is not the case, all questions, critiques and comments are happily welcomed.


	3. Temper, Temper

Oh, Shizuo, you're just so cute! I just want to pinch your little cheeks but would probably take damage to my fleshy bits. Ahem, not too much to report here this time, but I'd like to thank shadowdragonspirit for the favorite and follow.

Anyways, some things will explained further down the road as far as some of the things going on here are concerned, just letting everyone know. Also, I hope the title will make a little more sense by the time the chapter's over; I'm worried it seems . . . nonsensical. Now on with the show!

-Chapter 3: Temper, Temper-

Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all these people ever seemed to do. You'd think they'd have brains enough to scrape the cash together, get a better excuse or not borrow the damn money in the first place if they were just going to stand there spouting nonsense about why they couldn't pay what they owed to Tom.

"Shut up already!" Shizuo finally snapped, lasting an impressive five minutes into the whining of the man before them, some sniveling businessman that had taken out a loan to support his family. At least that was his excuse; it sounded like a load of shit to him, especially the part about the man's daughter needing multiple surgeries after stating he only had two boys whose ages kept varying the longer the conversation went on.

Tom sighed as the man and a stop sign went flying across a mostly empty street and into the back wall of a convenience store, scaring the hell out of a trio of teenage girls turning the corner and almost becoming collateral damage.

"Well, that didn't go too well," Tom stated as he and Shizuo walked away from the destruction. "Still, you listened that to guy's crap longer than I thought. Hey are you listening?"

Shizuo hadn't been. He was distracted, to the point he'd put a cigarette in his mouth and let it dangle unlit between his lips as they walked. He wasn't really sure why, but the last couple days he hadn't really been all there; he had even managed to keep right on walking down the sidewalk passed an indebted client's home that they'd been visiting that morning. His mind had just kept wandering back to her…

"Hey, Shizuo, you still with me?" Tom asked loud enough to snap him back to reality.

"Huh?" Shizuo responded and the cigarette fell from his mouth. He popped a fresh one between his lips and lit it, taking in a stabilizing breath of smoke. "Sorry what were you saying?"

Tom sighed again and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You alright, man? You've been pretty spacy these last couple of days."

Shizuo sighed with a gust of smoke and ran a hand through his bangs. "Yeah just been thinking, that's all."

"What about?"

Shizuo focused on his cigarette, trying to find to organize his thoughts enough to find the right words to describe it. When the cigarette was nothing but a burned out butt he could stall no longer. Tossing the butt he began, "Remember that woman, Mashi? The one that busted the post I was swinging?"

Tom gave a nod. "How could I forget?"

"Guess I've been thinking about her." He felt embarrassed admitting this and could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks but he kept talking. "She was strong, kind of like me, but her temper seemed pretty tight."

"I thought you said she was pissed off too?" Tom injected.

"Yeah, but not really angry. Heh, she was throwing shit at the flea," he said through a grin of appreciation. It faded from his lips and he found himself staring down at his hands, hands that looked normal but held something terrible and hated. "But then she has all that power and just used it to defend against . . . me. How'd she hold it back like that?"

He thought of his own inadequacies, how he couldn't contain himself or his temper. It had happened just the once, when he was fighting those Saika-whatevers in the park. But since then it'd been the same as always. He thought maybe he could reign it in some but the second someone said something or did something that grated on him he lost it and stuff started to go flying. Almost three decades on this Earth and he still couldn't hold back his temper. Why?

Tom wasn't much help here. He just shrugged in response but at least he'd been willing to listen. Though he did offer something to think on once Shizuo had finished musing.

"Why don't you talk to her about it? I'm sure you'll run into her again," Tom offered. "Stranger things have happened here after all."

Shizuo barked out a laugh. That was certainly true. While he didn't want to go actively looking for Mashi he certainly wouldn't mind running into her or her friend again, they had both been nice and taken him in stride, though to be honest he found that he was much fonder of his countrywoman than the other blonde, though he guessed hers didn't come from a bottle.

"That's true, thanks." The smile came back to Shizuo's face and he pulled out another cigarette. "That was the last job for now right? Mind if I catch up with you later?"

"Gonna go find your girl?" Tom teased light enough that it didn't piss him off. It worked well enough but still made a highly visible blush appear on the man's face.

"Yeah whatever," Shizuo grumbled and headed back down the street alone.

He wandered passed Russia Sushi and Simon scaring a family of tourists with his enthusiasm, passed Kyohei and Saburo as they listened to Erika and Walker go on and on about one of their weird hobbies, and passed that weird couple that was always hanging off each other like their lives depended on it. It seemed like he'd walked through half of Ikebukuro before he finally stopped, and that was only to grab a new pack of cigarettes when he found he was down to his last two.

A convenience store wedged between a supermarket and clothing store had his brand. He headed towards the automatic doors and nearly plowed into the two women coming out. Stranger things had happened, but he did find it odd that some random-ass store would deposit Mashi right in his lap like this.

"Hey, Shizuo," Mashi greeted with a smile as Yrsa gave a shier hello.

He lifted his hand in a casual greeting, all the things he'd been wanting to say and ask suddenly catching in his throat, embarrassment catching up to him. How the hell was he supposed to ask this exactly? It pissed him off that he didn't know after all the thought he'd been putting into it.

"Hey is everything okay?" Mashi inquired when his fists started to ball. "And you're kind of blocking the exit."

He stepped back and let them leave the store, convinced they'd keep on going before he could get a single question out. It might have been a small miracle when Mashi didn't get more than two feet away, looking at him quizzically as she stopped.

"Well?" She pressed impatiently.

She seemed like a straight shooter. Maybe this wasn't as difficult as he was making it out to be.

"How do you control your temper?" He asked bluntly.

Mashi stared hard at him as if she hadn't heard him but he could see the gears working behind her bright eyes.

"What brought that up?" She countered without answering, making his heart sink a little.

This was probably a waste of time. It was him, the problem, he couldn't control himself because he was a freak. A monster.

"Never mind," he shrugged and turned to head into the little store. A firm grip caught his arm.

"I'm just asking," she stated.

A rustling of plastic caught his attention. Yrsa had suddenly found whatever was in her grocery bag intensely fascinating and moved further away from them to give a little space to talk.

Shizuo popped the second to last of his cigarettes in his mouth and lit it. He breathed out before answering, still anxious. "I saw how strong you are. Kind of like me," he told her shifting on his feet. Damn it he felt like a little kid now. His feet stilled under sheer willpower. "I want to know how you can keep your temper in check that well."

"It wasn't easy," she admitted with a grin that was only a little sheepish and entirely beautiful. "Hell it still isn't sometimes. I've learned to try and think about what'll happen, an outlet helps too, relaxation therapy and all that shit. I don't have patience most of the time, I've had to learn it just like you'll have to learn to handle your temper. You ever try to channel it into something else?"

He shook his head, relaxing despite her brusque demeanor; it was actually kind of nice that she wasn't jerking him around. "You do that?"

Mashi nodded as she pulled out an obnoxiously bright pack of cigarettes and brought one eagerly to her mouth. When she couldn't find a lighter after a pat down he loaned her his own.

She continued with a exhale of smoke, "Yep. Kickboxing, judo, aikido, yoga's alright for it too when I'm not too pissed. You have to find what works best for you." That sharp amber gaze was suddenly on him, piercing into him; he actually squirmed a little. "Shit. I have absolutely no idea what'd be best for you. Sorry."

Shizuo let out the breath he hadn't known he'd held when she'd been staring into him. Weird that this woman could get to him so easily, it made him laugh a little. "Feels a little better talking to you about this actually. Thanks."

"You'd probably be a good ear, Mashi," Yrsa muttered. He'd forgotten she was there while he'd talked with the other woman.

Yrsa had since abandoned the contents of her bag. She was scanning the streets with a sort of intensity he didn't understand, her body visibly stiff as her icy eyes darted back and forth.

"Mashi, I think we should go," Yrsa relayed quietly.

Whatever was wigging her out was enough to catch Mashi's full attention and knit her dark brow. "What's going on?"

Yrsa opened her mouth but a voice cut her off before she even began.

"There he is!" Whoever it was shouted.

Before he knew it a semi-circle of almost twenty men boxed the three of them in against the walls of the store. One of the color gangs, he realized, each of them sporting a blood red handkerchief around their left arm or forehead. He recognized one of the men, one of the guys that had owed Tom money and that Shizuo had had to work over earlier in the day when his temper had eventually flared up. Figures, just when he was starting to feel good about the day some prick had to gather a posse and ruin his mood.

"Wait isn't that, Shizuo Heiwajima?" One of the younger members questioned nervously.

"What's with the chicks?"

"Who cares? If they get in the way that's their problem!"

"What was that?" Shizuo growled turning a glare on the group.

Some of the smarter ones fell back from the force of the cold look. One of the stupider ones charged forward, swinging a chain around and screaming like it would intimidate him. The man was stopped with a solid sweep to his stomach from Mashi's leg. The chain rattled to the ground and that was when all hell broke loose.

This was typical, Shizuo thought as he grappled and threw a younger gangster at two of his friends, crippling at least one of them as his temper roared out of control. It was one thing to threaten him, but to go after someone that seemed to actually like him even knowing what he was?!

He'd sent another man flying yards away, blood spurting from his broken face, before Shizuo had the sense to give a worried glance back at the women caught in the crossfire. Mashi was weaving her way through the blows, looking more and more irritated with each attack sent her way. Yrsa on the other hand floated on the outskirts of the fight, catching less attention but watching the violence with dancing eyes.

Mashi's temper finally seemed to snap. She dodged a plank and thrust her palm into the man's throat to subdue him, landing her second blow since the fight started but not her last he'd soon learn. Once the man was choking for air she lifted him above her head and hurled him at a comrade hiding on the edge of the brawl.

"Yrsa! Fucking run!" She ordered angrily, making a wide motion with her arm at the exit she'd just created.

Yrsa bolted through the opening and rushed down the street, worrying only slightly that Shizuo might kill someone but trusting in Mashi to at least try and keep the damage to a minimum. Her blood was still buzzing for battle when she rounded a corner several blocks away from the fray and crashed headlong into some poor boy, knocking him flat and making the girl he'd been walking with cry out in shock.

"I am so sorry!" She squealed pulling him up to his feet.

The pair stared at her, casting nervous glances to each other before the boy tried to speak to her in very broken English. It took until his third attempt to ask if she spoke Japanese before it occurred to her that she'd apologized in something else.

"Sorry, sorry," she said in the correct language and watched the fidgety boy calm under the familiar dialect. "Are you alright? I really smacked you there."

"Oh I'm fine," he replied dusting off his school uniform. "Why were you running though? Did something happen to you?"

She glanced back over her shoulder as if the fight would have continued up the street after her. Regardless of her pounding blood, she was glad for the peace around her at the moment. With any luck she'd calm in a few minutes and the itch to fight would pass. She hoped.

"You could say that," Yrsa finally answered. "There's this guy back there, he's taking on what must be a whole color gang."

"Shizuo?" Gasped the girl. "Was he alright?"

"You guys know him?"

"We've seen him around, but it's hard not to know Shizuo. Or at least have heard of him," the boy amended quickly. "He didn't hurt you did he?"

"What? No! My friend and I were talking to him when a whole bunch of guys in red came out," Yrsa supplied shifting between her feet to try and kill the hum of adrenaline.

"Your friend's still back there?" The girl asked with touching worry.

"It's alright she wasn't in his crosshair. If anything, Shizuo, likes her-" Yrsa bit her tongue for the admission. "That is they seem like they'd be good friends. At any rate you guys should probably avoid going that way for a while."

"We will, thank you," the boy said genially before guiding his friend across the street and far away from the battle that may well have already ended.

Yrsa waited on the corner for almost ten minutes, but her blood still thrummed heatedly inside her veins. This wasn't good. She started down the sidewalk at a brisk walk, her phone out to let Mashi know she was headed back to the hotel for now. The walk turned into a jog by the time the message had sent, the jog morphing into a sprint and finally into a dead run until she reached the hotel.

* * *

The sun was just started to set on Ikebukuro as Shizuo and Mashi sat on concrete, leaning back against a vending machine that had gotten caught in the fight. Pedestrians were giving them a wide berth as a cloud a smoke rose over the strange pair, a dented can of cola being passed between them that had been liberated from the downed machine. It was strangely comfortable sitting there with her, no judgment passed for what had happened or questions asked about what had happened. He wondered if this was what acceptance felt like. It felt good whatever it was.

"Next time we hang out let's do something a little less destructive," Mashi remarked casually as she ground the butt out between their legs and passed the soda over. "I'm still in town for a few weeks if you decide you want to." She held her phone out to him, her number boldly displayed across the screen for him to take down.

Shizuo smiled and punched the numbers into his phone, blissfully aware of the movements being tracked.

It was certainly and interesting development, that Shizuo would get a cute little crush on someone as freakishly strong as himself. How much fun would it be to let the information trickle down to a few of the gangs about his little girlfriend? They didn't _need _to know of her ghastly strength. A few beatings would certainly rile up a couple of the more obtuse– like the Crimson Heads that had been foolish enough to attack earlier –into battling amongst themselves. After months of set up and patient waiting as he nurtured and grew the gangs behind the scenes, things were nearly ready. After a little more time, a few evil deeds, and a whole lot of violence, things would really start heating up, maybe enough to wake up the sleeping angel once things were in full swing. In the meantime there was plenty of fun to be had elsewhere.

Izaya chuckled from his post, far enough to make sure he was safe from Shizu-chan. He set down his binoculars and picked up his cellphone to instruct Namie on just how to move the pieces on his board.


	4. Semi-Famous

Oh my god this chapter was a nightmare from a Lovecraftian hellscape that will now haunt my waking dreams. Anyhow, sorry for the super long delay, I hope this chapter is alright since I've been writing and rewriting it for like a month now, and I know the chapter title sucks but I couldn't think of anything else, so apologies in advance. To be honest though, I'm really, really nervous about this one because I'm worried that any relationship aspects will seem rushed and contrived seeing as there is sex in this chapter, possibly very fast and poorly written sex, but sex nonetheless. Now without any further stalling, I hope you enjoy!

ZZ2C for Chapter 2: A little…ok, a lot! I'm really sorry that I came off snappish to you; it was very disrespectful of me and not something that should be excused, and thank you for letting me know so I can temper my responses to better deal with helpful criticism instead of just… reacting like I did. Anyways, I know it's kind of stilted right now, but I'm trying to work on some character development and even a little foreshadowing, and I've even been trying to reword the summary so I can give better ideas about the plot since it will revolve some around Izaya's theories on Celty and Valkyries being put into motion, eventually working off the latter subject. Hehe….I hope so too, but definitely want the romance– and more importantly to me the relationships and their development –to be a force in this, but I also don't want the main plot to take a backseat. And that glue stick comment had me busting out laughing. I really want to avoid making that kind of story! And thank you for the review!

ZZ2C for Chapter 3: It was, I know…I honestly wasn't too crazy about it either, it was kind of forced when I wrote it up. I needed to develop some of Yrsa'a instability since it's going to build up to a teensy meltdown, but then I felt like I should show the aftermath of the fight and a little bonding between Shizuo and Mashi, and I also felt like I should show Izaya again to try and hint at what he was planning although I don't think I was very successful if at all. I'll try to avoid doing that again. Yes, I do have that base planned out for the most part though I'm working out some kinks to try and make everything flow well and make sense. Oh dear…sorry about that, I'll go back through it and see if I can fix it up for a repost. XD Yeah, it's going to be more than five chapters, please don't' worry. I've actually got about 8 or so written up already but need to work on polishing them before I post them, so please fear not! Thank you again for reviewing, it was very much a treat to see I had two at once and I appreciated them very much.

Smoking Still: Ha! Good to hear it. Nice pun by the way, and thank you kindly for the review.

-Chapter 4: Semi-Famous-

By the end of their first week in Ikebukuro the buzz around Pop-Go's pair of popular writers hadn't died down in the slightest. On the contrary, the number of voices buzzing with excitement just seemed to increase around the city. A few fans had even found their way to the hotel; Mashi suspected that Izaya had something to do with it and Yrsa was beginning to agree with her after a pair of girls had passed suspiciously close to their hotel door one afternoon.

Meanwhile back in the innermost parts of Tokyo, Pop-Go's headquarters were still receiving dozens of calls a day requesting the whereabouts of Kiiro-chan and Ruri-chan as well as offers for interviews by some of the local papers and television stations. It was unfortunate that the head of the PR department heard about the news.

It was Mashi's phone that started ringing at almost five in the morning, only a few hours after she had turned in after visiting what had been too loud, too crowded, and too irritating a nightclub that she'd been directed to by locals while Yrsa had stayed off to the sideline with a decidedly unfeminine drink and a scrutinizing eye.

She was about to unabashedly tell the caller to go fuck themselves when she opened her phone and an unpleasantly familiar voice broke through before she got a chance to speak.

"Mashi! I'm so glad I caught you in!" Chirped Chihiro Yamaho with far more energy than anyone should have at that hour. "I hope you weren't sleeping because you definitely won't want to after the news I have!"

She wanted to snap but held her tongue, a deep, stabilizing breath working its way passed her lips and into her lungs as she listened to her– or more accurately, Kiiro-chan and Ruri-chan's –publicist prattle on with the obligatory greetings that the woman thought were needed, even at 4:54 am. Mashi was nearly asleep again before Yamaho cut to the chase.

"-and they want you and Ruri-chan to appear for their show so I agreed!" Yamaho giggled excitedly.

"Wait, what? Who?" Mashi asked trying to shake the sleep from her mind with limited success.

"Ikebukuro's Studio 64, they called and asked for an interview," Yamaho replied with the sort of patience one only earned after years of practice. "I agreed of course, because they fit with your demographic." Ages 15 to 23, Mashi thought almost bitterly when considering her image was tailored to a younger, more rebellious generation. Still, it could have been worse. At least she didn't have to play the role model.

"It'll be good press, and you can even give a sample of the article once Takahashi sends you the revised pieces later this morning. Aren't you excited?"

Yamaho sounded excited enough for the both of them. "No," Mashi remarked with blunt honestly.

Undeterred, Yamaho plowed on in their conversation as if she hadn't received anything less than a stellar response. "Well I'm sure you will be after a little more sleep. We've already arranged for your costumes to be delivered around 10 today and we'll have all the details texted to you at least three hours before the interview."

"Wait, wait, when did you say this is going to be?" Mashi inquired, sitting up now so she didn't drift off again.

"Two o'clock this afternoon," Yamaho stated happily.

Mashi looked back to the clock on the nightstand between her and Yrsa's bed, the illuminated digits finally reaching the fifth hour. Nine hours wasn't a hell of a lot of warning, nor was it proper time to change costume and character for an interview.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" Mashi growled out knowing full well her contract wouldn't be terminated for a little potty talk and she intended to use that to her full advantage for the moment. "You shouldn't spring this shit on me the _day of_ the event you fucking lunatic."

Through the darkness Mashi spotted Yrsa tossing while Yamaho spoke delicate words of placation. It was easy for the bitch to explain all this over the phone. _She _wouldn't have to deal with the fallout.

They'd mostly grown up together, Mashi and Yrsa, but she didn't really understand, not completely at least. She knew Yrsa too had her own inner demon– one she tried to keep caged rather than find a way to deal with –formed from ancient blood that was better left in a long passed age. But fate seemed to have a strange sense of humor, keeping 'blessed' lineages and Valkyries with too much Berserk blood alive and well this day and age. On the surface their problems were easy enough to hide, no horns or claws or God knows what else displayed for the public every waking second, but stubborn bloodlines like theirs didn't have a place in the world, not anymore.

"-and I find that the surprise helps you both get into character better, especially Yrsa because you know how grouchy she gets when she gets warning," Yamaho finally reasoned with Mashi's stony silence. "It's what's best, really."

"What's best for the magazine isn't what's best for the people making it," Mashi snarled already feeling the stress of the upcoming day building inside her. "You're pissing me off, Yamaho, I suggest you don't," she finished with frightening calm as the air thickened and the darkness of the room pressed in on its occupants. She hung up without another word and shut her phone off when Yamaho redialed her. Fuck her.

The tense air twisted around her in serpentine coils, like a long forgotten embrace. Mashi cast her friend a sympathetic look and wondered if the playacting later that day would be enough to tip her over the edge.

* * *

It was half passed noon when Mashi and Yrsa found the motivation to ready for their unexpected interview. Two trunks lay sprawled open, their contents belched up across the floor and beds in a flurry of vivid and muted clothes, shocking and natural makeup, and a pair of perfectly sculpted wigs.

Mashi was the first to heave the first of the great number of sighs that would pass between them that afternoon, though hers was rooted in the frustration she felt every time she had to slap on her bright blond wig that worked to transform her into the rough and tumble Kiiro-chan; today the wig sported lime green and cyan blue stripes in the bangs that pinned in place instead of the pink and purple she wore for some photos for Pop-Go's fifth year anniversary edition. The dressing up was the worst of it for her, that and having to sit through what always felt like hours of questions and answers without a cigarette break– Yamaho insisted it would be bad for her image and encourage their younger readers to take up smoking. Despite the blonde wig, brilliantly green contacts, and a lack of nicotine, Kiiro-chan was Mashi. Brash, fun and strong, the assertive personality that burst into the foreground and told her women readers to stay strong because they, like Kiiro-chan, were individuals with voices and thoughts all their own that needed to be let out. Kiiro-chan was a recolored Mashi without the cursing and vice, and Pop-Go encouraged the woman to keep pressing the bounds of what she could get away with– within reason of course. Ruri-chan was another story entirely.

If Kiiro-chan was the woman at her rawest than Ruri-chan was the domesticity of woman, the expectation of what the readers would become once they'd enjoyed their youth. Long hair like pitch set in a loose but perfectly groomed braid hanging over her shoulder and warm brown eyes with understated makeup and always wearing a light coat because one could never be too sure of the day's weather; that was Ruri-chan, sweet and muted in the background. Usually Yrsa didn't care, she'd often been comfortable in the background where she could watch the world move around her, but that had been of her own accord. Ruri-chan was expected to be the little wallflower until called upon utter sweet nothings to the audience.

She'd been created to juxtapose Kiiro-chan's fun and eccentric style that was aimed at the adolescent generation, telling young women to live it up before turning to the kitchen and their husbands for the week's recipe brought to the public by an Icelandic woman under the guise of a native-born that must always be smiling kindly to her readers. It was bullshit and she hated it. If she was insulted she had to smile and giggle while a fist clenched behind her back, a sickening act perfected long before the creation of Ruri-chan. The worst had been when a fan attacked and she had to sit idle, crying for help when she could have easily smashed the man's face in; not only had the inactivity made her blood simmer, it was an insult to her barbaric heritage.

Setting the wig perfectly, not a hair out of place, Yrsa glared harshly at her own reflection through darkened contacts lenses. It wasn't that she hated her character– at least not completely –she just hated that she had to censor everything she did. Everything from her diet to her hopes and dreams were a concoction of frivolities made to fit well with an audience completely alien to her.

Yrsa let out her first sigh of the day, not the frustration of Mashi but of the crushed hopes that being Ruri-chan always brought on. If she could, she might have killed the sweet, wifely ideal that she aped. And she would have relished in the sensation.

"Ready?" Mashi asked blinking harshly to adjust to the contacts, the first words shared between them since their dress-up had begun that day.

Mashi was pretty as Kiiro-chan, not as much as she normally was, but still a knockout in a bad girl sort of way. The wig was styled into a high ponytail that was fluffed up at the end for volume, an obtrusive neon green hair tie holding it all in place. Her attire, which PR had so kindly marked with a sticky note as the 'August 14th interview' outfit consisted of a black wife beater and denim vest cut to end just below her breast, knee length black tights and a denim miniskirt completed the look above a pair of well-worn sneakers. Ruri-chan couldn't help but giggle at the punk 80's look that seemed so retro American.

"Yes, of course," she replied softly, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of the tan skirt that reached her calves. Ruri-chan wasn't allowed to wear pants, they weren't feminine enough.

Mashi frowned at her friend in concern. "I want to talk to Yrsa, not Ruri-chan," Mashi scoffed.

Yrsa flushed embarrassed, not even aware that she'd already switched personas. "Sorry, sorry just…getting into character."

"Yeah…" Mashi sounded unsure but mercifully let it slide.

"But yeah, ready as I can be I guess. How long do you think this'll take anyways?" Yrsa asked already heading towards the door to try and make the day pass more quickly.

Mashi groaned just thinking about it. "I think Yamaho saidit would be only an hour or so, but you know she never tells us the whole story if she doesn't want to. Crazy bitch."

"Crazy goddamn bitch," Yrsa smirked back making Mashi grin.

"Crazy fucking goddamn bitch," Mashi laughed slinging a tote emblazoned with the name of an up-and-coming rock band that she didn't listen to over her shoulder, checking the contents and pulling out her phone as it let out a chirp of sound. "Looks like the car's downstairs. Come on let's get going."

'The car' turned out to be a standard taxi hired by PR that took them a roundabout way to Nishiguchi Park, a little detail Yamaho must have forgotten about after blatantly explaining that they'd be interviewed in a _station _not a damn park with what must have been two hundred people surrounding a clearing where stagehands and reporters were setting up in.

"_Fu~uck_," Mashi growled under her breath, and then with a psychotic look on her face she declared quite happily, "I'm going to kill her, that's all there is to it."

"Can I watch?" Yrsa asked seriously as the cab pulled to a stop.

They stayed in the back for a moment, the excited shouting of their fans reaching them through the wall of metal and glass. It took the repeated and surly prompts of the driver to get them out, assuring them the tab had been taken care of already by Pop-Go's people. He sped away the second they were out of the cab, the cries of their fans upon seeing them becoming near deafening. It was time.

"Thank you so much for coming to see us," Ruri-chan smiled graciously and gave a deep bow to the crowd.

When she returned to a stand she caught sight of Mashi barging ahead, uneasy at the number of people crowding around metal barricades that the station must have set up beforehand. It wasn't any secret to her that Mashi hated the tightness of crowds so she wasn't surprised that the woman had made a beeline to the much more open clearing that they were to be interviewed in. With the threat of so many people looming around she knew Mashi would be moody for the interview, and Yrsa didn't blame her one bit.

Once inside the clearing, a woman in her early thirties with a bob of black hair ran up to the pair. "Kiiro-chan, Ruri-chan I'm so glad you two made it! I'm Kuriko Kuroshida, your interviewer for today. I've very pleased to meet you both," the woman declared with jubilance. "Please have a seat ladies and we'll start in just a few moments."

Mashi headed to her chair and lounged in it tensely as she scanned over the crowd, Yrsa taking her seat beside her, legs crossed under her and hands settled properly in her lap. She too began to examine their crowd, which mostly consisted of girls in their late teens, young housewives and men of all ages, some making obscene gestures or catcalling to Kiiro-chan while others remained in quiet awe of the women; the quieter ones, Yrsa observed, were all much older than the boys trying to get Kiiro-chan's attention.

"Shizuo's here," Mashi said quietly, something akin to relief in her voice. "Look."

She pointed to the crowd and a group of high school boys that were clearly skipping jumped and hooted in glee when they thought they had Kiiro-chan's attentions. Behind the idiotic display of young males stood Shizuo in his bartender's getup looking awkward and a little nervous. When he caught Mashi's eye he gave a little smile and held his hand up in greeting.

"He really likes you," Yrsa snickered behind her hand. "Give him your number."

"He has it," Mashi told her. "Gave it to him a couple days ago. I told him we had this thing today and he asked where it was. I didn't think he'd actually come, not knowing what Pop-Go was and all."

"Make a baby with him," Yrsa sniggered even more, still hiding her own laughs behind her hand.

Mashi took a quick glance around before turning to her friend with a playful grin, "Fuck you dude." And knowing full well her that Yrsa was trying to stay in character, Mashi added with a wicked smile, "I'd rather make a bed break with him."

Yrsa had to slap her palm down hard on her mouth to stifle the laughs that were trying to burst from her mouth. She managed to get it under control by the time Kuroshida came back with two cameramen, both going to their respective stations as the woman took her seat across from the pair.

"Are you ladies ready?" Kuroshida asked, the excitement from earlier still in her voice. She must have been just as big a fan as those in the crowd.

Kiiro-chan and Ruri-chan nodded and the interview began, starting with the same inane introduction that always came first in these interviews; the only thing that changed were the stations and the names.

"So ladies, what brings you to Ikebukuro?" Kuroshida inquired.

"There's been a lot of buzz about Ikebukuro the last couple years; Pop-Go heard all the rumors about the Black Rider, the Slasher attacks, and a bunch of other weird stuff," Mashi explained as casually as she could with the press of so many people around. "So they pitched the idea of writing a few articles about the place and we thought 'hey that sounds like a cool place to check out' so here we are, and I gotta say the town's alright so far. You guys have good restaurants, a lot of interesting people and some great places to hang out."

"What have been your favorite places? Anything you want to suggest to the audience?"

Ruri-chan took the first answer. "I'd have to say Russia Sushi-"

There was an excited scream from the crowd and a large sign sporting the restaurant's name waved back and forth in the crowd courtesy of Simon. He didn't seem like the type to read a girly magazine, but then this was a good chance for some free publicity if the cameras panned his way a couple of times.

Ruri-chan giggled at his enthusiasm and Mashi agreed with her answer, elaborating on the atmosphere and friendly staff.

"Really? That place has always seemed a little strange to me, but I've never been myself," Kuroshida explained.

"Oh, you mustn't judge too harshly," Ruri-chan scolded lightly while Mashi snapped at her not to jump to conclusions.

Kuroshida apologized, probably more for her show's sake than sincerity, before pressing on and squeezing out a few more endorsements for a nightclub, café, and parlor with an impressive number of pachinko machines.

"You mentioned that the strange activity brought you both here, have either of you seen the Black Rider or anything else like that?" Kuroshida inquired.

"Not exactly," Ruri-chan admitted, "Though we did hear a rumor about him having no head; it's such a cruel thing to say."

"Unless he really doesn't have a head," Mashi remarked. "The strangest thing we've seen has got to be light posts and vending machines flying through the air."

Kuroshida paled visibly and it became obvious that she had either witnessed or been caught in the crossfire of one of Shizuo's rampages.

"Y-you don't say?" She asked shaken, before moving on to her next set of questions more quickly than what was polite.

The interview lasted sixty-two minutes before turning to the typical hour long round of questions and answers followed up by meeting some of their fans. By five in the evening the ordeal was over, blessedly over with Yrsa heading back to the hotel for the ritual shedding of Ruri-chan's skin while Mashi stayed to chat with Shizuo, her interview attire shoved deep down in her bulging tote bag that had contained a change of jeans and t-shirt.

"Gotta say, blonde isn't really you," Shizuo told Mashi as they shared a smoke and a walk.

Mashi crackled with laughter as the nicotine and company eased her tension. "Couldn't agree more, red maybe," she joked back.

Shizuo quieted, probably trying to make her out with flaming locks. He shook his head and chuckled. "I think you look fine now."

"Thanks, you aren't too bad yourself." The cheesy line was worth seeing his cute blush.

Shizuo cleared his throat and flicked his half-finished cigarette into an ashtray, he fidgeted now unsure what to do without a busied hand.

"Are you hungry?" He tried almost cautiously.

"Sure. What're you cooking?" She half-joked.

"Ramen," he replied.

"I could go for ramen."

Shizuo gave her a broad smile and carefully, with the utmost tenderness and bravery he could muster, slid his hand into hers. Mashi laughed and gave him a little squeeze back.

"I'm not going to break, Shizuo," she assured him, "besides, bruises from you would just be a sign of affection."

* * *

Shizuo's apartment was comfortably small and neat. Mashi appreciated neat, especially when he last few boyfriends had turned out to be slobs that didn't seem to understand that the floor was not an acceptable substitute for a trashcan or laundry hamper. The only strange things were the large square of plywood that covered a busted window and a very badly dented refrigerator. Other than those aberrations his apartment was nice, with a very comfortable couch from which she watched him rummage through his cabinets.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" She heard him curse.

"What's up?" She called from her seat.

He stood up with a hint of shame across his face and held up a couple instant ramen cups.

"It's all I have," he said sounding apologetic.

"So? I'm not picky, what flavors you have?"

Back down to the cabinet and he was listing them off for her. "Beef, shrimp, veggie, spicy chicken-"

"I'll take that one," Mashi requested.

Several minutes later and they were both seated comfortably on his couch slurping up a second helping of piping hot noodles on what may have been Mashi's cheapest date, yet still one of the better ones she'd had. This one relaxed with good company and the junk food she enjoyed indulging in after those damn interviews, and Shizuo seemed to appreciate her tastes and appetite rather than question it. He was definitely a keeper if she had anything to say about it.

Slurping the last noodle into her mouth, Mashi gave a pleasurable sigh and set her empty cup and chopsticks on the coffee table while her host worked down his third cup of beef ramen.

"That was good, thanks Shizuo," Mashi purred like a contented cat leaning into the arm of his couch.

He gave her a sideways nod, his mouth full and unable to speak. Quickly he swallowed the rest of his dinner and gathered up their trash to throw away. Mashi was still lazing happily on his couch when he came back, stiffly towering over her.

"Hey I…" He started. His face contorted in frustration. "Shit I'm no good with words."

He swooped down and grabbed her face pressing his mouth hard to hers. She could feel her lips bruise from the impact but just grinned into his mouth. He was shy, it was cute, but this was much better. Gripping the back of his head she wouldn't let him pull away just yet, grinding her lips passionately to his and leaning up to meet him.

A second later and she as in the air as if she weighed nothing, carried through a doorway that had its door kicked clean off by Shizuo as he took her to his bed, plopping her down on its cushy surface. Mashi scooted up to the pillows, dragging him along with her without resistance. He captured her mouth again, pushing his tongue inside and lapping at hers eagerly while something even more excited pressed hard into her thigh.

He broke away, his tongue still poking out a little in his fervor and a heavy blush coating his face. "I want-"

"Yes," she interrupted with a nod.

Shizuo frowned seriously. "I could hurt-"

Mashi didn't let him finish. To prove her point she'd thrown him back, successfully pinning the larger man to the bed and holding him there when he tried to get up. "No you won't." She grinned and was happy to see him do the same as his body relaxed some, but not completely.

She was suddenly on her back, clothes went flying off her, ripping off him without care and the sound of metal wrapping behind torn met her ears. The first push inside her was like heaven, rough and hard enough to make her feel it the next day and after if she was lucky. Shizuo paused over her, his breathing labored as he fought to control himself.

"Shizuo-kun," she said with affection, leaning up. She bit his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

"What the hell was that for?!" He demanded.

"I told you, I'm not going to break. So fuck me right or don't-" She was cut off this time, by the hard grip on her hips and rough pounding of his.

A strangled moan broke through her grinning mouth. His hand were on her so tight, lifting her just a little of the bed as he lover slammed in and out with hard slaps of flesh. She groaned curling her toes as pressure rapidly grew in her abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she'd burst. She screamed in delight, clenching down hard over him when Shizuo bit her back, not on the shoulder but on her breast, a dark love bite already appearing around her nipple as he switched to the other and nipped all over her creamy flesh.

His teeth and his hips didn't stop; he found he throat, her shoulder and even the soft skin of her inner arm as he pounded away at her, spending himself in ripping a second more powerful wave of pleasure from her as her bites, some bleeding just a little, stung in the cool air of his room. She felt him stiffen around her as her muscles continued to cling to him in rhythm with her bliss, and the heat trapped behind a protective skin inside her.

Shizuo panted heavily and slunk down on top of her, exhausted and satisfied beyond imagination, let loose by a woman no more fragile than himself. He slid of her and lay on his side for only a moment, deciding even now he wanted her close, wrapped his arm tightly over her thing frame and pulled her against him to rest.


End file.
